A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(88)
But errant thoughts of what must be done—of my duty to this world and my own—finally pull me from the bed and that warm embrace. I slip out unnoticed into a gray dawn. Eldas murmurs as I grab my robe and tiptoe out of the room.
He finds me a few hours later on the terrace, overlooking the pools and the gardens. The journal he made a copy of for me is written in the old tongue. I can read it, but the words are stilted and grammar awkward, which makes for slow going. I’m searching for some kind of notion of balancing the two worlds. I can’t get that thought out of my head, even now.
But when I hear the door behind me open, I know that any hope I have of focusing on this lost queen’s journal has evaporated like the dew. A delightfully shirtless Eldas crosses over to where I’m sitting underneath the vine-covered arbor and sets down a steaming mug of tea.
Eldas sits in the chair opposite me and looks out over the gardens. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His focus rests solely on the mountain’s ridge. I can imagine him tracing the pathway that leads into the Fade. I wonder if he’s thinking of all the other keystones that need attending to.
“Thank you,” he says, finally. The words are soft and somewhat bashful. They bring a gentle heat to my cheeks.
“For last night?” I arch my eyebrows. “I should be thanking you for that as well.”
He looks away, eyes distant but expression relaxed, open, tender—all the emotions I never thought him capable of. “For allowing me to feel not so alone. For showing me every magnificent side of you. For giving me something I did not deserve but will cherish forever—not just last night, but our entire time together until this moment.”
When he brings his eyes back to me I don’t know how to react. My heart has swollen to the point that it pushes painfully against my ribs. I bite my lip, trying to stop myself from saying something foolish.
The world hasn’t changed. It’s still the same. My fears, my duties still stand in complement and contrast to his own. Yet, somehow, the world seems like it’s shifted, if only slightly. Like something finally clicked into place.
“I should thank you as well. Last night was exceptional.” I finally reach for the steaming mug and bring it to my lips. I know half of the herbs in the infusion by scent alone, and confirm them and identify the rest by taste. “This is good,” I interrupt whatever Eldas was about to say next. “Did you make this blend?”
“I wish I could take credit for it.” He smiles as well and any initial awkwardness following our first night together evaporates like dew. “But, alas, I cannot, and you would likely call me out for lying the moment I tried.”
I grin. “Maybe you’ve been keeping a secret green thumb and affinity for plants from me this whole time. You kept cooking from me, after all.”
“If I had such an affinity, you think I would keep it a secret when it might endear you to me?” He chuckles. “No, this is the last of some of Alice’s blend.”
“Ah.” I stare at the tan liquid in the mug. Mint, lime rind, dried strawberry, and camellia sinensis withered under a hot sun, all dance across my tongue. “It tastes like summer.”
“Her favorite time to drink it,” he affirms. “You two would’ve gotten along.”
“It would’ve been nice to meet her.” I take another sip. The flavor has become somewhat sad and full of yearning. “I would’ve had so many questions.”
“Perhaps you could ask me?” Eldas runs one of his very dexterous fingers across the rim of his mug. I shift, my seat suddenly much less comfortable as the motion elicits memories of our night together.
“At this point, they would mostly be questions about my magic.”
“I see.” He pauses. “At this point?”
I take another long sip so I don’t have to answer right away. I have to choose my next words carefully. “At first, I may have asked how any queen put up with this situation. How no one else was as adamant about finding a…solution.”
“A way out, you mean.” The words are easy enough, but there’s a cool edge to his tone. One that I now easily interpret as hurt. He sees me as yet another person running away from him, condemning him to seclusion. His eyes fall to the journal on the table, almost accusing it for trying to take me away.
“A way to strengthen Midscape,” I insist. That’s what my mission is about now. Ensuring the safety of Midscape. Doing so is the best way to help everyone here and, moreover, it’ll be the only way to know if what I’m feeling for Eldas is real. Or if all of these deep and complex emotions are just born of proximity and the appearance of necessity.
Love is choice, I told Luke, what seems like forever ago, and I have never found it to be truer. I cannot be certain of what I feel for Eldas if I don’t choose him freely.
“But you don’t have those questions any longer?” He glances over at me through long, dark lashes.
“No, I don’t.” I wave an arm toward the grounds. “This alone is paradise. And the conservatory back at the castle is a welcome balm that would suffice between trips out here.”
“I see.” Do I hear disappointment in his tone?
“Moreover…” The second I speak, Eldas looks at me with intent. I shouldn’t have said anything. Hope has brightened his face more than the sun—more than the magic flush that coated my skin last night as we made love. “I can understand how some queens found companionship in their kings.”